


Kept

by raregloves



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, M/M, POV John Watson, POV Mycroft Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raregloves/pseuds/raregloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft likes to be in charge when he's with John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kept

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (if you don't mind?): Johncroft, Mycroft is John (17) so called Sugar Daddy (I'll love it if you throw in some Daddy kink). John follows him to parties as army-candy and such. I would love to see how any, some of all of these characters react to that: Sherlock, Moriarty, Magnussen, Irene, Anthea and maybe Greg. Like maybe Magnussen or Jim break into Mycroft's house to have a meeting and they meet either Mycroft and John or just John. Just please no angst. I have nothing against smut.

Mycroft was naked from the waist down, his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. His pale hands rested on the lightly tanned hips of the naked John Watson, who, panting and sweating, was grinding his hips gently, stuffed full of Mycrofts cock.  
  
John hadn’t had any experience with men when Mycroft had selected him. He had only had a few trysts with girls his own age. Nothing that could’ve prepared him for the explicit intensity of the older mans request.  
  
But Mycroft had known that John would agree. He had a longing for danger that exceeded even that of other seventeen year old men, a gigantic sexual appetite, and had been poor enough in his youth to recognize that being under the wing of Mycroft Holmes was a sweet deal indeed.  
  
Sweet indeed. Johns body was muscled and tanned from hours of shirtless footy with his mates. Mycroft ran his hands up his spine, enjoying the heat of his skin, the way the muscles strained under his skin. John was a tight, wet heat around his cock, his loud breathing filling the air.  
  
Mycroft barely had to move his hips, and only made a noise when John was particularly clever. Already John had started to improve, his skills developing as he put his not totally insignificant intellect to the task of getting reactions out Mycroft.  
  
Right now, though, John had only one thing on his mind.  
  
‘Please let me come,’ he panted. ‘Please, please, please-’  
  
‘You have to ask me properly,’ Mycroft said gently.   
  
‘Oh, fuck, Daddy, please let me come, Daddy please-’  
  
His voice was breaking with the strain. He was young enough, Mycroft mused, to be ready for another round soon...  
  
‘Oh, okay then,’ he said, squeezing Johns hips. ‘Go on.’  
  
Johns spine arched and he came in violent spurts, his body shaking as his hole clenched beautifully around Mycrofts cock. It brought him to the edge, feeling himself deep inside John as he came, but Mycroft resisted the urge, taking pleasure in denying himself.  
  
John went limp, falling backwards against Mycrofts chest. Mycroft was glad that he didn’t have to go out again today, as his shirt was now badly rumpled. His cock was still wedged between Johns arse cheeks, but that was a secondary concern. He wrapped his arm around Johns stomach from behind and pressed a kiss into the side of his neck.  
  
‘Thank you, Daddy,’ John said, his voice low and sleepy.  
  
Then the door burst open.  
  
Sherlock was standing in the doorway, Anthea just behind him, clearly having failed to stop him from interrupting. They both stopped dead at the sight of the naked teenager in Mycrofts lap.  
  
‘Never mind,’ Sherlock said, his voice both shocked and amused. ‘It can wait.’  
  
He closed the door with a snap. Neither John nor Mycroft spoke as they listened to their retreating footsteps. He felt John (who had frozen solid) start to relax again.  
  
‘Who were they?’ John said. ‘Would they… get you fired?’  
  
‘No, no,’ Mycroft said, sighing. ‘Though I am bound to have a few awkward conversations now. Bet let’s not think of that. As you’ll note, one of the penises in this room is still erect…’  
  
~  
  
Some time later Mycroft and John went downstairs together. John wasn’t going to leave by the front entrance (ever, in fact, due to the location of various CCTV cameras) but it seemed prudent to introduce him to Anthea now, giving recent events.  
  
She had her head down, typing at shocking speed on her laptop, another open next to it showing a currently inactive live video feed. Only the slight pressure of her lips gave away her inner feelings.  
  
‘Anthea,’ Mycroft said, making her look up. ‘I don’t think I introduced you to John, previously.’  
  
‘I do apologize for the interruption,’ Anthea said smoothly, standing up and offering her hand to John. ‘Sherlock came here in disguise. I admit I was so caught up in the Kyoto situation that I didn’t realize until moments too late.’  
  
‘Quite forgiven,’ Mycroft said.   
  
Anthea smiled at John, her eyes running over him with undisguised curiosity. Mycroft didn’t mind. He and Anthea had worked side by side for many years now, and he would trust her with far more scandalous secrets than this without hesitation. It was unfortunate, however, that she should’ve seen John naked.  
  
‘Hoping to become a doctor, I see,’ Anthea said now.   
  
‘Did Mycroft teach you that?’ John glanced towards him. ‘The deducing thing?’  
  
‘He isn’t the only one with the talent,’ Anthea said, slyly, ‘though I dare say you see him at his most impressive.’  
  
John went a bright, stunning red and stammered out something incomprehensible. Mycroft felt himself smiling, and knew Anthea was holding back laughter with difficulty.  
  
‘Don’t be crude, Anthea,’ he said, putting a hand on the small of Johns back. ‘I’ll see John out now. Then you and I will work out this Kyoto situation, yes?’  
  
‘Yes, yes,’ Anthea said. ‘Wonderful to meet you, John.’  
  
‘You too, Anthea,’ John said, still pink in the face.  
  
Mycroft kissed him on the top of his sandy blonde head the moment they were out of her sight, vastly amused.

 

~

 

The meeting with Sherlock was much less amusing, however.  
  
He went to Montague Street himself, determined that the meeting (unlike the first) should happen on his own terms. His brother was feigning sleep on the floor when Mycroft arrived.  
  
‘Get up, Sherlock, honestly,’ Mycroft said, nudging Sherlocks leg with his shoe.   
  
Sherlock didn’t move, though his lips curled into a smirk. Damn him.  
  
‘Why should I get up?’   
  
‘So we can discuss this like adults.’  
  
‘According to my deductions, you’re not currently into spending time with legal adults.’  
  
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ Mycroft said. This time the nudge at Sherlocks leg was more like a kick. ‘Get up.’  
  
Sherlock got up, sitting himself down on the only armchair available. His smirk was more obvious than ever, almost wolfish. Mycroft looked away from it, instead letting his eyes trail over the mess in his flat. Disgusting.  
  
‘So how old is he? I think sixteen. Or a short seventeen.’  
  
Mycroft didn’t answer.   
  
‘Do you pay him? Is he your live-in boy? Are you, what, his sugar da-’  
  
‘And how is Gregory Lestrade these days?’ Mycroft interrupted. ‘Clearly he’s found somewhere more comfortable than his office to sleep, during those long cases…’  
  
Sherlock flushed.  
  
‘You stay out of my private life, Sherlock, and I’ll stay out of yours,’ Mycroft said, sternly but not as coldly as he might’ve. ‘Ok?’  
  
‘Fine,’ Sherlock said. ‘But you can’t stop me deducing John if I see him, so please, _please_ never allow me to see him naked ever, _ever_ again. I didn’t need that much information about you, Mycroft.’  
  
‘Duly noted.’   


~

 

John was half-asleep on the lounge in one of Mycrofts many unnecessary rooms. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a sun room, or a drawing room, or what kind of room, honestly.  
  
But it had a large, comfortable lounge and it was very dark and quiet. That was enough.  
  
Mycroft had been stressed over the past few days. John was not entirely sure what the situation was, only that it had to do with Mycrofts younger brother, that the police were somehow involved, and that somebody was being blackmailed.  
  
He probably wasn’t supposed to know about the blackmail, but… well. He might not be an international spy or whatever, but he wasn’t dumb. Half-heard conversations,  combined with whispers in the newspapers, if you knew how to read between the lines…  
  
He wasn’t worried, though. Mycroft Holmes had to be the smartest man in the entire world, or at least the Northern Hemisphere. And his power, if not unlimited, seemed to be almost so.   
  
Being the focus of that attention, having Mycroft interested in him, boasting about him, fucking him, defending him… it was exhilarating, having to dodge the CCTV cameras just in case somebody wanted to track his movements, use him against Mycroft… yet he had never felt so wanted, nor so alive.  
  
John heard the door open. He smiled. Since the stress in Mycrofts life had amped up their fucking had become rougher, hotter. When Mycroft needed to vent his frustrations he had John, his arse and his mouth, as well as any other part of him he might like, to use.  
  
Feeling suddenly keen to see him, John got to his feet, stretched, and moved out of his dark room into the lighter hall. He saw the shiny heel of Mycrofts suited leg vanish as he walked into the living room.  
  
‘Daddy!’ John called, feeling cheeky. ‘How was work?’  
  
He hurried up the hall and stopped dead in the doorway, because the man standing in the center of the living room was not Mycroft. He was tall and well dressed like Mycroft, but was otherwise quite different. Facial hair, glasses…  
  
‘ _Daddy?_ I didn’t know Mycroft Holmes had a son.’  
  
John felt unease shoot up his spine. Something about the silky, cold voice, something about the sharpness of his gaze, put John on the alert.  
  
‘Well, he does,’ John said, acting on instinct.   
  
‘Curious,’ the man said. ‘There isn’t much of a family resemblance.’  
  
‘I take after my mother. Obviously.’  
  
‘Obviously. And what was your mothers name….?’  
  
‘I don’t see why I should tell you that. I don’t know what your name is,’ John said, darkly. ‘I don’t remember being told about our having guests tonight.’  
  
‘Charles Augustus Magnussen,’ Magnussen said. ‘I’ve been working alongside your father recently. I decided to bring my visit forwards.’  
  
‘Well, he’s not here at the moment,’ said John coldly. ‘You’ll have to come back later.’  
  
‘Quite so,’ Mycroft said, from behind John, making him jump. ‘I have no desire to see you in my home or, in fact, anywhere. Get out, Charles.’  
  
‘Oh, so stern, Mycroft,’ Magnussen said, amused. ‘You know better than to order me around.’  
  
‘Oh no,’ Mycroft said, in his most deadly, kindly voice. ‘You’ll be the one who knows better. Now go. Before I call security.’  
  
Magnussen left, brushing his hand over Johns cheek as he walked. John felt revulsion rise up in his stomach, and once the door was closed Mycroft rushed over to him.  
  
‘Did he- how long did you talk? Are you ok?’  
  
‘I’m fine,’ John said. ‘He assumed I was your son.’  
  
‘Perhaps a better alternative than the truth,’ Mycroft amused.  
  
‘He’s the blackmailer, right?’ John said, feeling he had earned the right. ‘The one that’s making trouble for your brother?’  
  
‘You’re a sharp young man, John Watson,’ Mycroft said, kissing him briefly. ‘He is indeed causing trouble for Sherlock and his partner. Trying to whip up a scandal. But he’ll be in custody by tomorrow, I’ve had Anthea inside his computer for the past forty-eight hours.’  
  
‘You’re very good,’ John said, linking their hands.  
  
‘You’re not so bad.’  


**Author's Note:**

> You can send me a prompt on my tumblr- I love rare pair fic :)
> 
> raregloves.tumblr.com


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